That sucker had frost on it when it came down! Hoo boy. That was the end for meatball-serving baby Michael Wacha (who is more like Michael Wachan’tyoustopgivinguphomerstotheCubsbuddy). The end of his life. RIP.

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His replacement, Kevin Siegrist, did not fare any better! The very next batter, Anthony Rizzo, smoked a big fly so hard it left a trail of pure lasers on its way to outer space.

Good gravy Marie! Is that a home run or Halley’s Comet? This was like the 17th tater the Cubs mashed to that exact same section yesterday. Evidently Dexter Fowler noticed the trend. He took care of the fans in right field with the Cubs’ final slam of the game, in the 8th inning, when poor Jonathan Broxton tossed him a beach ball:

Unfortunately the ball never came down. Because of how hard he crushed that damn shit! Tough break for those fans, but tougher for the Cardinals, whose names shall be synonyms for shame and impotence forevermore.

Those are some prodigious dingers. Man. What kind of shitheads give up six of ’em in one friggin’ playoff game?